the one that lit her up from inside. Who would shoot at her, and why?
She stopped short. “What is that building?”
Zeke almost ran into her and put his hands out, caught her at the waist. Heat radiated from his palms and up his forearms. He widened his eyes, dropped his hands, and backed away.
“It was originally a guest house,” he said and kept his voice casual, although his heart pounded like a drum. “Then my mother’s art studio.” He kicked a couple of loose river rocks into a flowerbed and stuck his hands into his jeans pockets.
“How long ago did you lose her?” Dena asked.
He frowned at the mountain ridge. “A year ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Dena stopped at the padlocked gate, craned her neck and read the ceramic plaque. “Posada del Gato Negro, I like that. What kind of art did your mother do?”
“Oil paintings…local landscapes.”
“Nice. Do you have any on display in the house?”
He hated small talk, especially about his mother. “Most of her paintings are in the casita. I’ll show them to you later.”
He frowned. How odd that he’d invited her to the casita. A police siren sounded. In the distance red and blue lights flashed, and the car moved so fast a cloud of dust billowed behind it. He felt his palms go damp and his throat dry up. They wouldn’t sound the sirens and drive like maniacs to get a report from Dena. This wasn’t about her. This was about him.
“That car is headed this way. We’ll have to go back.” How much of this could he take?
****
Irma let a red-faced cop out the back door, and Dena tensed as she approached the steps to the verandah. The deputy was on the chubby side. He pulled his dark glasses off, stuck them on his head, and swiped his forehead with the other hand.
“Morning, Dave,” Zeke said, and stepped forward with his hand out. “What’s up?”
The deputy ignored Zeke’s outstretched right hand and put his hand on his holster. Dena took a step toward the cop.
“Move back lady, this is between me and Zeke.”
Did he think Zeke took a shot at her car? She read the name on his beige uniform. Stanton. The cop she’d spoken with over the phone. Funny, he’d sounded younger and slimmer. He wore a thick black belt, a gun in the holster on the right, a baton on the left, a Tazer in the cross-draw position.
“Do you have a warrant?” she asked. He couldn’t harass a citizen. She’d taken enough evening classes in criminal law and private investigation to know that.
Zeke raised his hand. “It’s okay. What’s going on, Dave?”
Stanton waddled toward Zeke, and the closer he got the angrier and redder his face became. A vein in the side of his neck bulged. “You…you—” Stanton said. “You big city lawyers think you’re above the damn law—”
“Whatever it is, Dave, we can talk about it,” Zeke said, and indicated a bench. “Or we can go in, get a cup of coffee.”
“Susie!” Stanton said. The word came out with such force a little spittle flew from his lips. “Susie…they ID’d her.” Stanton’s eyes welled up with tears. He put his dark glasses on and ran a hand over his short brown buzz cut.
Dena pulled in a long breath. This was not good.
“What? What do you mean?” Zeke asked. His face had turned pale. Dena moved toward him, but Stanton got in the way.
“I’m taking you in,” Stanton said, his voice high-pitched.
“Who is Susie?” Dena asked, although she guessed it was the name of the woman they’d found on Thursday. Zeke had slumped onto a lower step. He rested his elbows on his knees and gripped his forehead with one hand, the other clutching the stair rail. She turned to Stanton. “Who is Susie?”
“Zeke’s high school sweetheart…isn’t that right?” Stanton kicked at Zeke’s foot.
That annoyed the hell out of her. “Deputy Stanton, you don’t have a warrant, and—”
“Who are you, his lawyer?”
The deputy appeared to be running on pure adrenaline. Stoked to the hilt. She had to calm him down.
“Get up,” Stanton said to Zeke. He pulled out handcuffs.
Dena faced Stanton again. “You need to state why you’re arresting Zeke. And you haven’t read him the Miranda's.”
“Who are you?” Stanton asked, turning to look her up and down. “This is none of your business. You’re not his lawyer.”
“I’m Dena Roman. Zeke’s girlfriend.” She blinked hard as once again her impulsiveness took over. She didn’t care. She stood her ground. “I demand an explanation.”